


if you're not the bride (deluxe version)

by devourer_of_books



Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Agatha is still freaking out, Agatha is thirsty, Drinking, F/M, Hester is a queen, Make Outs, Misunderstandings, Rewrite, Sophie being messy, Tedros is smug, wedding au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23272183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devourer_of_books/pseuds/devourer_of_books
Summary: "… White is forbidden, no drinking without moderation, and never, ever, under any circumstances, fall in love with the groom. Agatha might have broken the last one. Kind of" - The classic story you already know, but better.alternative title: I've been quarantined for way too long
Relationships: Agatha/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil), Sophie/Hort kinda
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43





	if you're not the bride (deluxe version)

**Author's Note:**

> So you may be wondering why is it you're seeing this.  
> Hello, it is I again. If you're here, maybe you're familiar with the original "if you're not the bride', which I posted about three years ago. In case you're not, then, hello, welcome, when I was 15 I wrote a story under this same title. Then forgot all about it.  
> But every so often someone would come across this story and I was reminded of its existence. Then, back in september 2019, I decided to read it again, correct some grammar and call it a day, you know, just so I could rest assured I hadn't written something horrible.  
> Turns out, it got a bit out of hand and I decided to rewrite the whole thing.  
> However, due to the fact that college is the worst, I never finished it and, well, forgot about it, again.  
> Now, as quarantine came around, I found my rewrite from 6 months ago and since I got the time why not, right?  
> This is now more than double the size of the original and has a lot more of backstory than intended.  
> You can still find the original with some corrections here on AO3 and ff.net, and the cursed unedited version somewhere on tumblr for the sake of nostalgia.  
> Warnings: There's cursing, some drinking and good old make outs.  
> July 2020 edit: here I am, re-edting this thing again, bc I'm a nitpicking bitch  
> This all said, welcome folks, to the deluxe version:

"You're going to what?!" Agatha raised her voice, tightly holding her phone to her ear. Surely, she must have heard Sophie wrong. Her friend did have a reputation for being over the top, but this was beyond absurd.

When people said that being friends with Sophie was…an exotic experience, they weren’t _completely_ wrong, per say. Being friends with Sophie could be a lot like being friends with a hungry animal. She was ruthless, dangerous and not trustworthy about 60% of the time. Sophie would do most anything to get whatever she wanted and _absolutely would_ step over you in the process (sometimes for no reason other than because it amused her to do so). It wasn’t personal, mostly. It was simply her nature.

For her, there were two kinds of people: her friends and her enemies. It was very easy to go from one category to another and anything in between simply couldn't be processed by her brain.

Sophie was a _difficult_ person.

Agatha could tell you in more detail, she would know. Being Sophie's best friend wasn't exactly a dream come true. It had its perks of course, and when all was said and done, Sophie was an _okay-ish_ person and a _mostly good_ friend, but you gotta give it up to Agatha; it was no task for the weak-hearted.

They had been friends since kindergarten and were as different from one another as it gets. Had they met later in life, Agatha is certain they would’ve never become friends at all. Sophie was a loud, gorgeous (and kinda mean) blonde bombshell and Agatha was a grumpy, average-looking _mostly_ _nice_ girl (she wouldn’t call herself kind, really, her _niceness_ was more of a subproduct of her aloofness than anything else). The two of them disagreed in most anything and had not that much in common. Yet, it somehow worked. They argued a lot, as in, _a lot,_ but it was always fixed within a weeks’ time, in a coffee shop, over a good old vanilla latte and some black tea.

An _odd pair_ , to say the least.

Which was fine by them. Sophie… was a _work in progress_. She was trying. 

Nevertheless, every once in a while, something like _this_ would happen. Because Sophie was still Sophie and her head worked in mysterious ways.

"I'm getting married, Aggie," Agatha could practically hear the blonde rolling her eyes on the other side of the device, "people do that all the time. It’s, _like_ , a thing.”

"Sophie, you're not even done with college yet! Getting married with what money? As far as I know, your modeling barely pays your rent and don’t even get me started on your student loan and credit card debt! And getting married to whom? Last time I checked, you weren't even going out with anyone!" She tried to cool her head, catching her breath while trying to recall any possible groom Sophie could have taken. "Unless… Are you marring Hort?"

A disgusted groan was heard.

"Ew, no. Not Hort, for God's sake. What do you think I am? Desperate?"

 _A bit,_ but Agatha didn’t dare say it out loud.

Hort was a guy who lived at the apartment just below Sophie's, in a tiny complex downtown. They’ve known each other for quite a long time now. It was practically common knowledge that Hort acquired the biggest crush on her the moment he first laid eyes on her. It was all the old ladies from 1A and 2C ever talked about.

Over the years, he became quite easy on the eyes, even Sophie had to admit it. No longer the scrawny awkward kid that helped Agatha drag Sophie’s couch upstairs (while Sophie flirted with the trucker, trying to get free shipping for her mattress, which, by the way, _she got_ ), but a fully formed man, completely jacked, and with a growing bank account to match, due to his fitness-program-thingy taking off. Agatha didn’t really know the details of _that,_ but she knew it was going well, mostly because Sophie told her so.

Anyway, he claimed to not want anything to do with her friend nowdays.

_Yeah, right._

Agatha felt bad for him, she really did.

Loving Sophie was like loving a hurricane. Violent, brutal and downright painful. 

She had initially assumed it would go away with time, that he would eventually see that they weren’t compatible and _let it go_.

However, it was a bit more complicated than that, as most things in life tend to be.

She knew he and Sophie had hooked up, in fact, she knew that they did so often. Sophie hadn’t told her, but she didn’t need to. Agatha _knew_. The aftermath was never good, and for the sake of keeping things short and lighthearted, Agatha shall spare you the angst and just say that, as mentioned above, Sophie was fantastic at getting whatever she wanted and disregarding other people’s feelings.

Honestly, Hort could say he wasn’t into Sophie all he liked. At the end of the day, he was still living at that shitty apartment (even though he could probably have moved somewhere better a long time ago), hadn’t seriously dated anyone since meeting her and was responsible for at least half of Sophie’s modeling gigs, which were her friend’s main source of income. Agatha had warned him, several times, mind you, but all you can do is all you can do. _The heart wants what it wants_ , she presumes.

"If not Hort, who then?"

"Oh, you don't know him yet," She could practically see Sophie twirling a golden lock on her fingers, a mischievous smirk on her face.

"Clearly," Agatha rolled her eyes and put her phone on speaker to be able to look around for her keys more comfortably. Reaper, her cat, had a bad habit of hiding them in the weirdest places. "Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone last time we went out for coffee?"

"Because I wasn’t seeing anyone at the time," the blonde-haired woman sounded a bit annoyed, seemingly not understanding why Agatha was having such a hard time believing her _ludicrous_ story.

"Sophie."

"Yes, Aggie?"

"That was literally three weeks ago."

"It's true love, Agatha. I can feel it. This is my real-life fairytale. I found the perfect guy for me. He's so different from anyone I've ever met…" Agatha tuned her out, finally realizing what was going on.

For Sophie, everyone she dates is her one true love. She was _intense_ like that. There were lots of “perfect guys” on the list, _too many_ , and eventually Agatha grew tired of counting them. Neither did she remember their names. Why bother, when Sophie would grow tired of them soon enough?

Her friend’s drug of choice just so happened to be was _serial dating_ with lots of _love-bombing_ on the side.

 _Parents got divorced?_ Look at this cute basketball player that will probably cheat on me.

 _Bad day at a shoot?_ Oh, that barista is so sexy, bet he’ll hook up with me anyway.

 _I have no idea where my career is going and hate my major?_ Why not call Hort up, right?

But getting actually married? That’s new.

Agatha sighed, picking up her keys from the pot of her balcony plant. Time to be the be the grown-up. _Again_.

"Sophie, are you 100% sure you want to get married to this guy? Can't you wait a few months at least? How about you guys move in with each other first?" If Sophie doesn’t tire of him, that would terrify the poor thing into ending this madness. Again, Agatha would know. She had to stay at Sophie’s for a few weeks once, back when she had split with a partner whom she had been living with; it was _hell on earth_.

"Weren't you hearing, Aggie? We. Are. Soulmates. He is very serious about me. He’s so in love with me, he would never hurt me, and I need to tie him down before he runs away. Isn't this what people always say?" Her friend's voice was getting snappy. _Oh, no, not good._

"Sophie, I just think you should be more careful and reasonable…" Agatha tried to pacify, tiredly.

Did she not own any clean jeans? _Damn._ Why does she keep forgetting to do her laundry? The blue skirt she wore to work would have to do.

"It’s always _reason_ , with you, Agatha! You never listen to your heart! I thought you would be happy for me! You're always telling me just how much potential I have! He brings out the best in me! What do you even know about relationships anyway, you always end up ru-"

"SOPHIE!" She interrupted, before her friend could say something she'd regret and crush whatever good mood was left in Agatha’s body. "I'm just _surprised_ , that's all. Tell me about this guy…?"

 _Fuck it_ , she decided. Agatha was in currently in a hurry and this could be solved later. She wasn't going to be able to win Sophie over the phone. Maybe she could sit her down on sunday, have one _long_ talk about red flags in relationships, _again_. Convince her to stay engaged for a bit longer, just enough for her to get bored and then call it all off as soon as the new _whats-his-face_ walks through the door.

Now was not the moment to be arguing, especially if she wanted to be on time.

"…And he's so great and wonderful, he's tall, has these hypnotizing eyes, they’re so intense, it's like they suck you in, Aggie! His hair is just wow, it's a very uncommon shade of blonde, the undertone is beautiful, so expensive-looking... but it's natural, he swears. And his skin is so soft, you wouldn't believe, his name is…"

Agatha tried to listen. She really did. However, all she could hear was "bla, bla, bla, perfect, bla, bla, bla, handsome". _Lord, not this again_. Did it get worse every time...? 

The brunette stuffed her wallet in a handbag, grappling to close it (it had been a present from Sophie, and as such, probably hardwired to annoy her _and_ look good at the same time), and gave herself a look over in the mirror, before frowning. Oh, time for her limited make-up skills to be of use. 

Damn, she looked _rough_. She left in hurry that morning, so her bare face stared back at her in its full sleepless-racoon glory.

It has been a long week of nothing but late nights trying to get her workload done. She couldn’t believe she was saying this, but she missed college. At least back then she didn’t have to worry about rent. Oh, to be _young, broke, dead-inside and living on a dorm_. The wonders, truly.

Concealer, blush, eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick. There. Done.

Kinda?

"… So, are you up to it?"

What.

"… Hm, sure?" She responded, still trying to evaluate if her liner was acceptably symmetrical. It wasn’t. It never was, but it wasn’t _always_ this bad. Really, not her best work. Maybe she could fix it, somehow?

"That's amazing, you'll look so pretty, the dress I picked is perfect for your undertone, you’ll be the best maid-of-honor ever!"

_Oh, god, no. No way. What has she done?_

Should she do that red-flag-talk now?

"How… _nice_ of you to say that," Agatha replied, barely contained horror coming across in her tone. Not that Sophie paid her any attention.

"I set the date for the engagement brunch-party for tomorrow around 10am. At the terrace. And speaking of dates, I must introduce you to someone, he's _great,_ Aggie, and I think you guys could…"

 _No. No. No._ Agatha is drawing the line here.

"Oh really, cool, hey I have to go, _callyoulaterbye-_ "

Agatha throws her phone on the bed, groaning loudly. Reaper stirs in her pillow, but is otherwise unbothered by the conversation, unlike his owner.

Of all things… getting _married_. Agatha was now her bridesmaid. Engagement brunch…?

Sophie, why. _Why?_

Agatha was now an accomplice of this crime against good judgement, wasn’t she? _Should she call Sophie again…?_

Ugh, you know what? She’ll sort this out this later. Sophie could wait a few hours, Agatha earned this night out. 

_…This totally is going to come back to bite her, isn’t it?_

Well, too late, Agatha’s leaving. Because, unlike Sophie, who _clearly_ had too much free time in her hands, Agatha had things to do and couldn’t just waste her precious friday nights on this kind of bullshit.

.

.

.

"You're late," is the first thing Hester says to Agatha, not even lifting her gaze from her phone as she approaches their table.

It was the usual one, right by the wall, perfectly placed so it was far enough from the dance floor but close enough to the bar, so it was still socially acceptable to be seated but not too _“loser-zoned”_ , in Hester’s own words.

Hester herself looked the same as always. Dressed head-to-toe in black and showing off an impressive number of tattoos per square inch of skin, she made quite the intimidating sight. The only tip to her actual day job was the discarded white blazer and sleek suitcase lying on a chair beside her. Back in school, Agatha used to find it hard to picture Hester being anything but a _witchy-biker_ or a _badass-tattoo-artist_ , but she supposed _scary-lawyer_ suited her friend just fine.

"Nice to see you too, Hester. I've been well, thanks for asking," Agatha sits down, annoyed. She knows she’s late. She missed the _“early-comers, free entrance"_ time, and damn if the isn’t pissed that she’s now 15 bucks broker then she already was. "Anadil, Dot, it’s great to see you guys too"

Both women acknowledge her presence quietly: Anadil nods,before getting up from her spot and leaving to god-wishes-he-knew-where and Dot hugs her briefly, headed to the bar.

Hester rolls her eyes and repeats herself.

“You’re _late._ ”

“Shut up, I’m here, aren’t I?!” Agatha snaps, before she bit her lip and propped her elbows onto the table, head in her hands.

The gesture makes Hester lift her eyes from the phone, finally. 

“Well, someone’s had a bad day.”

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s been one looong horrid day. Have you ordered any drinks? Or are we going for beer tonight?” Agatha asks, going over the familiar menu, even though she has every beverage price there already memorized.

“Okay, slow down,” Hester yanks the menu out of her hands. “Have you eaten? I’m not going to take care of you if you didn’t.”

Yes, she would, but that’s not relevant.

“Yes, mom,” Agatha rolled her eyes. “I’m _tired_ , tomorrow is gonna _suck_ , let’s _drink._ ”

" _Tomorrow?_ Tomorrow’s saturday, loser, sleep to your hearts content,” Hester reminds her, but at seeing Agatha stare back at her in misery it occurred to her what, or rather, _who_ , this was about.

“Blondie has been texting me non-stop about brunch. At 10. What’s up with that?" She lifts a brow, her judging eyes scanning Agatha’s expression. Agatha in turn, lets her elbows drop and bangs her head onto the table, harder than originally planned, a whimper leaving her lips.

Hester sighs. She loves Agatha to the death, but when it comes to Sophie, she has always been _way_ too forgiving. Agatha was not Sophie’s mother, she shouldn’t have to look out for her and bend over backyards to help her. Personally, Hester and Sophie didn’t get along very well.

Which lead to: Sophie never invited Hester anywhere, unless she wanted to rub _something_ in Hester’s face.

"...Apparently, she's getting married in, like, two weeks?" Hester's brows lift in surprise. "...To some guy I don't know?" Higher. "....And I'm a _bridesmaid_?" Almost disappearing into her hairline by now.

Awkward pause.

"Okay,” Hester breathes in and out, _“what the actual hell?"_

"My words exactly."

"She'll be over it in a week," the tattooed woman deadpans.

"No doubt," the other replies.

Three more seconds go by, and it’s far too long for Agatha, whose leg starts to twitch under the table.

"You're doing it again," she states.

"Doing what?" Hester asks, crossing her arms, lying back at her chair.

"That thing.”

“What thing?”

“You know,” Agatha vaguely gestures at Hester’s face, “that thing your eyebrows do when you're being judgy."

"I am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"I _so_ need a drink right now," she tells her before leaving the table.

.

.

.

At the bar counter, Agatha sits down on a stool and waits for the bartender, Chaddick, to show up, ignoring Hester’s glare on her back.

Now for some unnecessary backstory, in case you’re interested: Agatha and Chaddick had a bit of history (read, _beef_ ) long before this club, _The Woods,_ opened and even before Agatha and Hester started to have their monthly night-out there.

Chaddick was a jock whom Agatha went to school with, all the way from sixth grade to senior year of high school. To be brief, he was the worst ™. He made fun of her, tormented her days, spread rumors about her (including one that she was _witch_ , which lasted for years) and even stole her stuff once. In senior year, he had even developed this habit of showing up with his friends at the tea place her mother owned, where she had worked a few shifts from time to time, ordering not a single drop of fucking tea, being loud and annoying for hours and only leaving when closing hour neared.

Agatha was sure that if you googled _‘jackass’_ , his picture would turn up. He'd been so full of himself, all because he had some cash, was athletic and was “ _cute_ ”, you know, in that white-upper-middle-class-way that most school-aged popular boys tended to be. But then, flash-forward: Chaddick now worked wednesday to saturday as a bartender at Agatha’s favorite club. Apparently, his parents went bankrupt or something during college. Agatha felt kinda bad for him, but not really? She supposed he wasn’t as terrible of a human being nowadays, but she was not about to go ahead and call him her friend, no matter how many times she had to make small talk with him for the sake of bar etiquette.

"So what's it gonna be today?" The bartender asked, not quite politely, but she lets it slide, for she could tell he was as thrilled about this conversation as her.

Chaddick, too, looks the same, to no one’s surprise. He looked more tired, but still douchey enough that Agatha didn’t feel too horrible of a person for not feeling as sorry for him as she probably should.

"Surprise me. I've had a very bad day."

"Is Sophie actually up to something then?" He asks while grabbing some bottles, "I hear there's going to be a brunch-party tomorrow…?"

"Who told you? Reena?” Chaddick dismisses the name casually with his hand. “Gisele?" _‘no’_ , he denies with his head. "Beatrix then?" he nods, uncharacteristically shy, and Agatha nearly felt pleased, before she remembered what they were talking about before. "Bingo. But yes, there’s a brunch-party tomorrow. An _engagement_ brunch-party."

He hands her a cup, wide-eyed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

" _Engagement?_ Do I even wanna know w-"

"You don't. Trust me on this," Agatha cuts him off, taking a sip of the beverage. She doesn't recognize its taste, which makes her wary. She knows her alchool. "What did you even put here?"

"It’s a secret, tonight’s special," he winked mockingly, before hurrying on to the next client.

Agatha briefly wonders if she should drink the rest of it, eyeing the cup curiously. It didn't smell bad and she kind of liked the taste. Should she trust Chaddick? _Probably not_. Then again, Agatha needed a drink tonight.

It would be fine. She is no lightweight, Hester is here, tomorrow’s saturday. Right?

Another thing that would probably bite her later. So, she braces herself and downs the cup in a few large sips, heading back to her table.

_Bring it on._

.

.

.

Two other cups of _who-knows-what_ and an hour later, Agatha was back at the bar, now sitting in different stool, as far from Chaddick as she possibly could be, when a body drops on the sit next to her.

It's Dot, giggling loudly like a high school girl on heavy drugs.

The giggling persists for quite some time.

... It’s kinda creeping Agatha out.

"Penny for your thoughts…?" She tries, taking a sip of her drink.

No response.

Giggle.

More silence.

"Hm, Dot?"

She continues to stare at her joyfully, still smiling like a madwoman.

Agatha found Dot adorable and friendly, which was a surprise since she was one of Hester's best friends. The two of them weren't really that close themselves, but she did enjoy her company. Being friends with Dot was as easy as it was harmless.

"Don't look, but there's a really hot guy right by the pool table who hasn't been able to take his eyes off you for the last fifteen minutes."

Agatha's eyebrows shot up in Hester-like fashion and she fights the instinct to turn around and check if Dot isn’t messing with her. 

She knows she is not the most attractive female in the room. Agatha tends to think of herself as more of an acquired taste, truly. Yet, every blue moon someone would come over to try their luck with her. Sometimes they’re cute, sometimes they’re funny and sometimes they’re just desperate. So far, “hot guys” haven’t really been her target demographic.

"So what? What's the big deal?" She tries to keep her nerves out of her voice, mostly succeeding, but Dot's smile only grew more and more mischievous, as if seeing right through her.

"Turn around. I dare you not to remember him. Pretty sure Sophie told you about how she met him again a few weeks ago, at that event she went to? The one sponsored by _Camelot International_?"

…Okay, so Agatha might be a bit of a bad friend. She didn't listen to 90% of Sophie's rants about guys or modeling events, so most likely she had told her about him as Agatha did something else. Something important, really.

_…Like playing games on her tablet._

She worked a lot, okay? Can’t have people hogging all her free time. Even if it was Sophie. _Her best friend._

_Shit._

Agatha's face must have betrayed her because Dot laughed even louder than before.

"You seriously don't?" she managed to ask between giggles, as Agatha blushed, frowning.

"I should?"

"Most likely yes. Sometimes you're way too funny, you know?" Her smile was dangerous. Stop smiling at Agatha like that, woman.

It was at times like this she could see _why_ Hester and Dot were such good friends.

"Thanks, I think?" Agatha eyes her companion carefully "How hot is this guy any…"

"Hot enough for you to talk to me, I hope," a male voice announced behind her, seemingly amused.

_Not her day. Definitely not her day._

"He's right behind me?!"

Dot giggled loudly a final time before walking away to Hester’s table. Very helpful. Forget what Agatha said about liking Dot. She didn't. Dot was a horrible person.

Agatha turned on her heels, facing the stranger with a sheepish smile. She was not ready for what was about to bite her.

~~Oh damn, please do.~~

…Figuratively, fuck. She meant in a _figurative_ way.

Before we go on, Agatha would like to clarify that she blames any less than pure thoughts on Chaddick, because who knows what he put into her drink.

(Yeah, it’s _totally_ Chaddick's fault)

_Amen, praise Jesus, okay?_

Embarrassingly, her first instinct is to say that _yes_ , he was totally hot enough to talk to her. Or come home with her. Or _marry_ her (too soon for this joke, scratch that). That’s not what she did, however. Oh, no, she stood there, in silence, and stared for quite a while before her brain rebooted and she finally gained control of her own body again.

Agatha is the first in line to advocate on why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but she had _eyes_.

He was tall. As tall, if not _taller_ than her, and Agatha was a _tall_ woman. His jeans looked expensive and his light blue social shirt was tight on his chest, almost as if it were a size too small, the top buttons open, defined muscles visible to even the most casual observer. The shirt was paired with a grey-ish tie that hanged loosely around his neck, a bit too effortless-looking to be unintentional. His features were sharp, sculpted even, a certain _California-sunny-surfer meets Adonis-next-door_ quality to them. Soft blond locks had an unnatural shine under the club’s lights, as if they were made of gold.

And his eyes, my god, they were so blue Agatha felt like sinking and drowning in his arms right then and there. Unfortunately, she couldn't. Because you see, she is a grown woman and had a little thing called _dignity_.

~~Not that she didn't want to though.~~

_Focus._

He did look kind of familiar. Had they met before? Agatha doesn’t think so. This man looked like he just walked out of a Calvin Klein ad, and she sure as hell didn’t know many people who look like that. One of Sophie’s model friends? If so, she certainly hadn’t introduced the two.

Yet, the way he was looking at her right now indicated the reality that she should probably know who he is. Maybe he was from her old gym, back when she let Sophie talk her into going for a few months? No, there were no hot guys there, just old ladies and teenagers.

Okay, so, plan B, say something smart.

"Hm…"

Say something.

"…So…"

_Anything!_

He doesn't look very impressed by her articulate conversation skills, but Agatha can’t place where she had seen him before. Maybe they had been neighbors at some point? She moved quite a few times in these last years and keeping track of all of them was impossible. But that didn’t seem quite right. A friend of one of her exes then? Did they meet at pride or something?

Seriously, who was this guy! Acting all smooth, as if she should know who he is! He's good looking enough to be memorable sure, but clearly not memorable _enough_.

Hell, did she sleep with him? He must have been the worst one night stand ever for Agatha to somehow forget him. Maybe he was so bad that she forgot about him completely...?

"I give up, I can't remember you."

He looked a bit offended. Maybe he was indeed a Calvin Klein model.

"The name's _Tedros_ …?"

Tedros, Tedros… Tedros?

"Nope, doesn't ring a bell," she concludes, "but, I'm, hm, Agatha?" 

"I know," he responds, curt and firm, nearly glaring at her.

“Neat.”

"Nice."

"Good."

"Great."

"Awesome."

"Amazing."

"Extraordinary."

"Now, that's a big word," he mocks. Agatha suspects he just didn’t know any bigger ones to keep up. Part of her wishes to strangle him with his own tie and part of her wants to call him out on his shit. He approached her, okay? She is under no obligation to recognize him.

Her eyes narrow and she sips on her fourth cup again.

"Do you need for me to tell you what it means?"

"Oh, no, I’m _fine_."

The passive-aggressive-ness of this conversation is starting to exhaust her and kill any buzz she had, but she can't just let _Mr. everyone-knows-who-I-am-and-I-look-like-walking-sex_ win. He needed to go down ( ~~on her~~ ). _What._

"Hm, Tedros, you're going to order something or what?"

Chaddick cuts the stare contest between brown and blue and Agatha makes a note to leave him a nicer tip tonight.

"What's the special of the day?" Tedros' tone is amused, as if he and Chaddick are old friends. _Ugh, of course he would_. He sounded douchey enough. Maybe he went to school with her? That sounded about right, she could picture it. Pretty-boy-Tedros, walking down the hall wearing a football jacket with a cheerleader or two on his arm.

"Nice little things I've put together," Chaddick wiggled his eyebrows. "Want some?"

"Is it safe?" Tedros asks him, cautiously.

"Well, Agatha here is still fine at four, I would say so."

Soon enough Tedros is downing his second cup, sitting on the stool next to hers.

.

.

.

Agatha wasn’t sure how or why, but things went from point A to point B very, _very_ quickly.

Point A being sitting beside Tedros at the bar and point B being heavily making out with him in a corner.

Agatha wishes she was joking. She wasn’t. It just…somehow…happened?

_Fuck._

It all started when Tedros eventually caught up to her and from there on they held a little _amicable_ drinking competition.

(“I bet you can’t do more shots than me.” “Oh, you’re _so_ on!” “You drink like a fourteen-year old, dude.” “Oh _yeah_?” “ _Yeah_.”)

Then, they paid for their drinks. Well, Tedros did.

(“Did you just... pay for me?” “It's called having manners.” “ _Excuse you?_ ”)

After that, Chaddick kicked them out to the dance floor, something about the two of them ' _grossing him out'_. Agatha is not much of a dancer, so she tried to go back her table but Tedros said something (she can’t quite remember what it was) that made her realize that she kind of didn’t want to. Leave, she means.

They danced for a bit before she stepped on Tedros's foot, or maybe he stepped on hers first?

(“Ouch.” “Get out of my way!” “ _M_ _ake me._ ”)

From there on it was incomprehensible screaming over loud music for a while and they somehow ended up being _way_ too up in each other’s personal space. Agatha eventually just lost it, and grabbed him by his collar, bringing him down to place a forceful peck on his lips, before backing away, partly horrified, partly proud.

It took two mortifyingly long seconds of silence and pure embarrassment for Tedros to grab her by the waist and kiss her roughly.

They stumbled to a more secluded corner, until Agatha's back hit a wall, but she was distracted from the pain of the impact by Tedros licking her bottom lip, seeking her tongue, a small sound escaping her once he found it. _What the hell is she even doing, this should not be happening._ And yet, she cannot bring herself to care.

This is a wild, passionate kiss and not at all Agatha’s expertise. She always considered herself more of a _slow-vanilla-soft_ kind of girl. But out the window with _that_ , Tedros was nowhere near close enough, no matter that they were already flush against each other. Maybe _this_ is why Sophie thinks every guy she meets is her soulmate. As cheesy as it sounds, she feels somehow connected to this stranger, almost as if they were meant to be or something.

_Ha, as if._

Any thoughts, of soulmates or otherwise, are forgotten when Tedros' hands start to wander, one goes from her waist to her hip and the other moves to explore her tight, squeezing it deliciously. Agatha retaliates by pulling on his hair, not as lightly as she probably should've, but is rewarded with a husky groan and a bite on her bottom lip.

(She does it again because that might be her new favorite sound.)

_What. Is. Going. On._

Her last braincells are on fire. _She_ was on fire.

_Okay, young lady, de-attach yourself from the handsome male slo…_

_Oh God._

She’s pretty much breathless when he decides to break the kiss, her lips chasing after his for the slightest second as he pulls away. Her heartbeat has never been this _loud_ and she has no time to overthink, as, suddenly, his lips are on her neck. Agatha lets out a quiet, but embarrassingly _needy,_ whine (as quietly as she _could_ , but it didn’t really matter, he heard her anyway) when he nips on her ear and then trails down to suck at her pulse point. Her hands snake their way from his hair to under his shirt's collar and Tedros shivers once she drags her short nails lightly on his upper back and shoulders, but she can still feel his very attractive smug smirk against her skin.

She felt _drunk_. She doesn’t feel like that often.

Not the _completely-trashed-I-just-had-countless-drinks_ kind of drunk and certainly not this _don't-care-keep-going-my-blood-is-on-fire_ kind of drunk either. Like she wanted to keep touching Tedros for the rest of her life (the idea doesn't sound half bad), as fireworks danced around them and… God, if Sophie knows this guy how she could not marry him on the spot, because fuck…

He’s leaving quite a few love bites along her collarbone, teasing, attempting (and succeeding) at drawing tiny sounds from her and Agatha can’t take it anymore. She drags him back up to her mouth and somehow pulls him even closer. She did not like feeling weak, but to her surprise, Tedros seemed to possess the superpower of turning her completely boneless in the best kind of way.

_Wait._

Agatha is making out with Tedros.

Tedros is making out with her.

Agatha's eyes open in late realization and the two of them stare at each other for a few seconds.

_So, this happened, huh?_

"I… hm… have to go. Out of here. Home. Alone. Yeah, that," Agatha makes way around paralyzed Tedros, whom looks very confused and disoriented. His lips are tainted with coral lipstick, he's panting for air, his bright eyes dark with desire, clothes looking disrelished, pants looking a bit _too tight,_ and he just looks throughfully _kissed_.

No, Agatha does not feel even a little tiny bit of pride by seeing him look like that because of _her,_ what are you talking about, not sexy, not sexy _at all_.

… Maybe he could come along?

No. _No, no, no._

She doesn't run away from him exactly, but she sure as hell wasn't walking. As she passes Hester and Anadil, the two of them raise eyebrows judgingly, but Agatha does her best to school her expression into neutrality.

If she waited a bit longer, she might have heard Tedros saying:

"Until tomorrow then."

.

.

.

Agatha regrets every single life choice that led her to this point.

She's sitting on a ridiculously shaped chair at Sophie's apartment building’s terrace, brooding silently in the corner, with a big headache, while eating some diet cake that tasted like foam, listening to violin versions of bad pop songs, probably dying of heatstroke, and if _that_ doesn’t kill her soon enough, _can someone please end her misery…_

Hester and Anadil are not here after all. Agatha doesn’t blame them. It might be for the best, because Agatha doesn’t need to deal with Hester’s judgy eyebrows right now. Dot is down in Sophie’s apartment, at the kitchen, most likely trying to steal some wine and she is pretty much the only person here Agatha can stand.

She partly wonders if Hort will show up but decides she does not care. She's running on _aspirin_ , her head feels like it was _smashed against a wall multiple times_ , and it's _too hot_ here, okay?

It's a hot sunny day and the limited shade would not be enough to cool Agatha down even if she wasn’t wearing a _scarf_. Agatha hates this scarf. It was another one of Sophie’s gifts, and Agatha hates it because it's an evil scarf that pinches her every five seconds. However it’s the lightest scarf she owns, and she can't it take off.

Otherwise, someone might notice the dark mark on her neck, which her shirt could not hide, as was the case for the other ones, lower, in her collarbones.

Tedros freaking marked her. The nerve.

~~She’s not nearly as pissed as she should be, because honestly she’s kinda into it.~~

Taking off the scarf would lead to too much teasing and questions, she had no turtlenecks available ( _damn you, past-Agatha, for not doing your laundry_ ) and if only she had the skills to cover it up with makeup. Not only was the scarf evil by itself, it made it impossible for her to not think of yesterday, therefore, making her even more irritable.

She is not the kind of person who kisses people at the club. She sure as hell wouldn’t bring a guy she’s just met, at the club of all places, home. What if he’d been a psycho? She doesn’t know him. He’d know where she lived. She wouldn't go to his place either, that sounded even more irresponsible. But she wishes she had at least gotten his number, you know, instead of freaking out and running away. Well, he knew Chaddick, so maybe she could ask him?

No, that would be _humiliating_ , and Agatha is trying to hang on to whatever dignity she had left.

Also, it had been almost an hour at this damned terrace party and she hasn't seen a single trace of Sophie's fiancé, but the blonde assured her he would be there soon. He’s the late-type, hm.

Okay, so Agatha hates him already.

She has been to this terrace quite a few times, it was the one pro of Sophie’s building, aside from cheap rent. But she was running out of both will and things to point out in small talk with all these models and small influencers. If she hears _“Sophie has such a lovely terrace”_ one more time…

Suddenly, there was _clank_ , signaling that someone pushed the terrace door open. As Sophie lit up and moved to greet the newcomer, Agatha felt the cake climb up her throat.

_Holy hell, is that Tedros?_

What is her life, really.

Agatha gets up from her chair quietly, observing the scene from behind a plant, trying not to be too obvious, just, ya know, casually _chilling in the middle of the scorching sun_. Sophie hugs him tightly, placing a kiss on his cheek, grinning as she laces their fingers together and starts walking in Agatha’s general direction, pulling the handsome man behind her.

_Hm, no._

Agatha resists the urge to pace in circles as she tries to gather her thoughts. It might be the hangover or the diet cake but seeing the two of them together made her wanna barf. Not because they didn’t look good together. They did. In fact, maybe _too good_. Sophie’s long soft hair was a shade or two lighter than Tedros’, but other than that, they might as well have been made in the same Instagram-model-facility. Like a set, _Barbie and Ken_.

_What is this feeling?_

Oh no, she can see them approaching. Abort mission, leave, get out, hit the road…

"Aggie, darling!"

Agatha forces herself to fake a confident smile, as if she could always be found casually hanging out behind plants on saturday mornings. It turned out to be more of sheepish grin, especially when compared to her friend, whose pretty smile is almost too big for her too pretty face.

Sophie looked particularly gorgeous in her pastel green summer dress and peep-toe heels. Her tanned skin glows under the sun, the light catching in her green eyes on that special way that made photographers all around the industry want to work with her despite her inexperience, the grace within her movements creating an allure Agatha doesn’t think she'd be able to recreate even if she were to be born again.

This is not good. Leave, abort mission, repeat, abort miss…

"Aggie, this is Tedros, you know, the one I was telling you about yesterday," she winked. "Teddy, this is my bestie, Agatha, you remember her, right?" Sophie nudges him lightly using her elbow.

Tedros looks even better now that she can see him in natural daylight. Which should be illegal, truly. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans, his hair made of pure gold looked just messy enough to not look too try-hard, yet something about him looked weirdly… staged? Agatha couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

"I surely do," Tedros lets go of Sophie's hand, shoulders tensing, and Agatha thinks he might be blushing. _Is he nervous?_ "We-"

"Nice to meet you," Agatha interrupts him, grasping his hand on a firm handshake and letting go just as fast, as if touching his skin would burn her. “Sophie told me a lot about you."

 _Play along, please. I beg you_.

"Oh, hm, it’s very nice to meet you too?" Tedros responds, confused, but not calling her out. “Nice scarf,” he adds, his lips curling upwards, so very slightly she might have missed if she wasn’t micro-analyzing his every movement. _Smug bastard_. She is all too aware of his gaze lingering on her neck, a hint of pride showing in his bright eyes, the teasing in his voice making her want to pull him down by the collar, whether to choke him or to kiss him she couldn’t tell.

“Oh, isn’t it cute? See, Aggie, I told you that color looked great on you!” Sophie cuts in, reaching to touch said scarf. Agatha steps back self-consciously, making an effort to not scratch the back of her neck as not to call more attention to it.

“Quite the bold fashion statement for the _summer_ , may I add,” Tedros continues as he casually leaned one elbow on Sophie’s shoulder. Subtle enough that Sophie wouldn't read too much into it, but Agatha could see right through his shit. “But I like it. You look very pretty, Agatha”

How dare he, truly. No sham-

_Wait._

"So, I need to get going, work emergency you see, but I'll make it up to you, Sophie," Agatha excuses herself, quickly. She tells herself it’s just the heat that it’s bothering her, but her brain is going 300 miles per hours and she needs to leave. Now.

"Aggie, tomorrow we'll be having lunch at the country club, don't be late!"

"Yeah, be there, alright."

Agatha sprints down the complex’s stairs as discreetly as she can, which is not much. By the time she's at her car, the weight of her realization hits her full force.

.

.

.

_"I'm getting married, Aggie"_

_"Not Hort"_

_"You don't know him yet"_

.

.

.

_"Aggie, this is Tedros, you know, the one I was telling you about yesterday."_

.

.

.

_"That was literally three weeks ago."_

_"I dare you not to remember him. Pretty sure Sophie told you about how she met him again a few weeks ago at that event she went to? The one sponsored by Camelot International?"_

.

.

.

_"…Oh he's so great and wonderful, he's tall, has these hypnotizing eyes, they’re so intense, its like they suck you in, Aggie! His hair is just wow, it's a very uncommon shade of blonde, the undertone is beautiful, so expensive-looking, but it's natural, he swears, and his skin is so soft you wouldn't believe, his name is…"_

_"bla, bla, bla, perfect, bla, bla, bla, handsome"_

.

.

.

_"He's so different from anyone I've ever met…"_

_"She feels somehow connected to this stranger, almost as if they were meant to be or something."_

.

.

.

_"Acting all smooth, as if she should know who he is!"_

_"He looked a bit offended."_

_"The name's Tedros?"_

.

.

.

_"God, if Sophie knows this guy how could she not marry him on the spot…"_

_"Sophie hugs him tightly, placing a kiss on his cheek, grinning as she laces their fingers together and starts walking, pulling the handsome man behind her."_

.

.

.

Agatha is a very bad friend, isn’t she?

She bangs her head on the wheel.

Then, she regrets doing so, opening the car’s door, so she could vomit some diet cake and last night’s alcohol on the parking lot's floor before driving away.

.

.

.

By a miracle, Agatha survives the drive home and makes it back home in one piece. 

As she walks into her own apartment, she does not feel half as guilty as she thought she would be. But she was very, _very_ angry. Furious, actually.

At herself for being both a dumbass _and_ a bad friend, at Tedros for being a player, at Chaddick for being a dick in general, at Sophie for being Sophie, at Dot for not warning her and even at Hester for not being at the party today so Agatha could at least not freak out by herself.

She can't do anything for the rest of the day, because trying to work, read or sleep is useless, since she can’t focus with all the internal screeching her mind is doing. Her existence now doesn't make any sense and Agatha is about to tear her hair out, lying down in her bed, staring at the celling.

(There's a long crack on there and for whatever reason, it reminded her of a river. Probably because it didn't look like anything else.)

She contemplates calling Hester and telling her everything but ultimately decides against it. She can’t bring herself to explain this out loud, least of all hear any possible lecture Hester might give her. _Is this how Sophie feels when she decides hide things from her-_

Oh my God, _Sophie_.

Tedros was engaged. To Sophie. He was Sophie's _fiancé_.

Agatha is not freaking out at all.

.

.

.

At last, ten long hours of sulking later, Agatha is feeling a lot guiltier, still very much pissed and just confused as a whole.

She made out with Sophie's fiancé. Should she tell her? _Yes._ Would she? _To be decided._

Maybe they wouldn't even get married. Come on, a few weeks? There's no way Sophie will keep up this insanity. Telling her about the club incident would only hurt their life-long friendship over a guy who wasn’t even gonna last two months. _Years_ of companionship out the window. She had no intention of doing it again so, did it really matter? What the eyes don’t see, the heart doesn’t feel, right?

She hadn’t even known he was Sophie’s fiancé!

But then again, Sophie had told her all about him. She didn’t listen because she was a bad friend! Was she really gonna play the _“I didn’t know”_ card...?

_It was the truth!_

But no one would believe her. Fuck, if Agatha were Sophie, she wouldn’t believe herself. Agatha was a smart grown woman, godamn it. _What kind of dumb bitch even-_

This wedding wasn’t happening. No need to worry, right?

For now, Agatha has two long weeks of supposedly weeding-related bonding moments with Sophie to survive, without accidentally letting slip that, oh, talked, drank, danced and made out with Tedros.

_Well, shit._

.

.

.

Even if one ignored the fact that the guilt was starting to eat Agatha alive from inside out, the next day would still have been a long, tortured journey of nothing but cringe and regrets. Yet she bore it, because she, _even if accidentally_ , brought this on herself.

Agatha got up early on a _sunday_ (name a bigger crime) to try and get something done, since she would probably have little time to work in the following weeks. Then, she went to have lunch with Sophie at a fancy country club (that Sophie couldn’t afford by the way, which earned her a lecture on credit cards and personal finances) hoping to have that _“red-flag”_ talk.

It did not go well.

Sophie had invited him along. Of course, she would. Apparently, since she was getting married soon, Agatha should be used to have him around. And, of course, Sophie would have decided to tell her he was coming the moment he walked in, headed to their table.

This is Sophie's fiancé. _Do. Not. Stare._

What kind of cosmic karma is this? _He isn’t even her type._

_WHY-_

"Afternoon, ladies."

Sophie greeted the blonde with a smile and a hug, as Agatha merely nodded his way, scanning the room for the closest exit.

"Hi Teddy!"

“Tedros.”

Lunch is awkward as hell and at this point Agatha is just waiting for a waiter to come and stab her. It ends up being both _not so terrible_ and _the worst lunch ever_ because she does talk quite a lot with Tedros, against her better judgment.

She learns that Tedros did go to her school, for three years. Sophie asks him if he remembers Agatha, and from Tedros’ silence, Agatha assumes he doesn’t want to admit to having been part of Chaddick’s... _shenanigans_.

Her friend then talks _astrology_ , and Agatha learns that he is a leo (because of course he would), is kinda proud of it but says he doesn’t believe in astrology, prompting Sophie to start a discussion on why he wouldn’t believe in astrology if he believed in _tarot_. The way he blushes and stammers is cute and makes Agatha feel horrible for thinking so, but she asks him about tarot anyway. She's just being polite, okay?

He mentions he’d turned 26 a while ago and recently moved back to the city, as he moved away to go to college in Avalon. She tells him she almost went there, but her scholarship did not include a dormroom and she knew no one there to share an apartment with. His answer is a blunt _“I know”_ , which both confuses and pisses her off.

Tedros offers her no further info on it, but they engage in conversation again after he mentions he is working at _Camelot International._

(“As one of the main executives on the board,” Sophie adds, “it’s one of the most powerful companies in the country.”)

They quickly bond over their massive workloads (Agatha may not be a _main executive of a huge corporate empire_ , but damn if being head finance director for _SGE Enterprises_ didn’t keep her busy enough), until Sophie slips that he must be very lucky to be the sole heir to the _Pendragon Group_.

_Oh._

Tedros _Pendragon_. Are you kidding? Agatha remembers seeing his family’s name being all over the news back in school and she feels dumb for not remembering that Tedros and _‘that Pendragon boy’_ were the same person. Hadn’t his parents had a huge cheating-divorce-scandal that caused the stock for the company to plummet a few years ago?

Tedros frowns at Sophie before saying that, _"Yes, indeed, he’s very lucky."_

The blonde doesn’t seem to notice the way his hands grip the fork tightly as he pronounces the last word, but Agatha does.

It adds on to the list of things that keep her awake later, after she does her damn laundry and stress-cleans her entire apartment. She curses as she turns and tosses on her bed, because it’s 2 AM, work starts in a few hours and she _needs_ to sleep.

.

.

.

The next four days are not much different, the routine is pretty much the same, except they have dinner plans instead of lunch. Work, eat, work, do bridesmaid shit with Sophie and Tedros somewhere, avoid his gaze, talk for a bit over something like choosing the best flower arrangements, and then hightail out of there, only to come home and be restless.

She was still very confused, because honestly, Tedros didn’t seem bad at all. The more she talked to him, the least she wanted to stop talking to him. He definitely had some _family issues_ and was doing some _overcompensating,_ but nothing that made him, like, _a total trash human_.

And yet, he was still the guy who hit on her ( ~~fucking made out with her~~ ), knowing exactly who she was, while being engaged to her best friend.

_She always thought herself a good judge of character._

Anyway, she did her best to act aloofly polite and if he ever seemed to hint at the night at _The Woods_ , Agatha cut him off before he could. It was a good plan. _Wait it out_. And it really was working just fine.

Until the dress store.

For some reason she cannot wrap her head around, Tedros is there too.

(Isn't there a tradition against seeing the dress of your bride before the wedding or something?)

At some point, Sophie struggles to get into a particularly complicated dress at the dressing room, yelling at the poor employees like a harpy on a rampage and Agatha is about to intervene when he manages to pull her aside, his grip firm but with a certain gentleness that made her skin _burn_.

He semi-drags her across the store through a sea of sparkly white dresses and into this small nook between sections. Agatha does not want to admit that the main reason why he is able to do that is because she allows him to.

Things only go downhill from there.

He has her cornered, her back nearly merging with the wall as he stands close to her, his posture tense, moving slowly, like one would in presence of a startled animal. He doesn’t look like he is trying to purposely intimidate her, and she doesn’t feel particularly _unsafe_. No words are spoken between them and the silence allows Agatha’s senses to pick up on a deliciously rich smell. _Is that Tedros' cologne-_

Agatha forces down the rash that is creeping up her neck and tries to focus on doing what she does best, _aka_ , running away from her problems. She looks anywhere but his face, but he is not making ignoring him an easy job.

"I don't get you."

_What._

"Excuse me?"

“You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about.”

Agatha scoffs, arms crossing in front of her chest.

“I truly don’t.”

Her response seems to annoy him, which she counts as a win, but Agatha might have declared victory just a bit too soon. Tedros, who was a couple of feet away has managed to get way too close (yet again). His hand raises her chin and forces her to look into his eyes. Her resolution to run away falters and she’s scared he might hear her heartbeat speed up.

“Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, Agatha. One second you don't like me, then you do like me, then you don't again… I don't understand the game you're playing here… So, I’ll make this simple, you won, _congratulations_ , now stop playing games, now you _know_ I'm interested."

Agatha blinks. This is… not the conversation she thought she was going to have.

Of course, during her nightly overthinking sessions she thought about what she’d say if he confronted her about the previous friday, even if she didn’t think he’d have the balls to actually do it. But she seems to have been reduced to this _dumpster fire nonsense_. Tedros never did what she thought he was going to do and it was short-circuiting her braincells.

She's way too aware of the hold he has on her, the compromising situation they’re in. One of his hands cages Agatha in, placed on the wall behind her head, while the other keeps her from adverting her gaze from his. Tedros is _too close_ , he smells _too good_ and his mouth looks _too inviting_.

She hears him, but she doesn’t really _hear_ him, his presence fogging up her senses.

Agatha briefly entertains the idea of giving into temptation and kissing him. How nice it would be to grab his collar, invert their positions, slam him against the wall and kiss him senseless, so he could feel just how helpless she felt having him corner her like this. Kiss him and just leave him there, wanting, begging, and…

_What. Wow, fuck. Stop._

A new thought hits her like a ton bricks.

This guy is an _asshole_.

Tedros looks irritated and Agatha wants to punch him.

So she does.

She’s strong enough to give him a black eye, but she ( _unintentionally_ , Agatha swears) holds backs and aims for his chest. However, she can tell it hurt a lot by the way his eyes water and he backs away several steps. She hears Sophie yelling their names across the store and giving Tedros one last glare, she turns around and walks away.

The _nerve_.

Why would anyone marry him?

Sophie needed a wakeup call. And fast. Because while Sophie could be a nightmare, she did not deserve to be played like that.

.

.

.

Agatha was not a superstitious person.

If she forgot her umbrella at home and it started raining when she left the dress shop (Tedros and Sophie both offered her a ride but she would rather choke, honestly, and said _no_ , forgetting that she rode here with Sophie in the first place), it's not fate, it's bad luck. If she gets sick and loses her voice (and therefore can’t go do neither her work or her bridesmaid duty), it's not conspiracy, it's simply a coincidence.

Well, call it fate, call it bad luck, call it conspiracy, call it coincidence. The case is that Agatha has lost her voice and has both a running nose and a fever. She considers texting the whole story to Sophie but changes her mind when she imagines the blonde woman's reaction.

_Agatha, you’re such a slut._

She is going to tell Sophie about this… this… this individual. Yeah, she was going to come clean and _expose_ Tedros. No wedding.

Why was Tedros marrying Sophie anyway? She could understand why Sophie would go for Tedros. He did seem like her type. Young, rich, successful and handsome.

(Not really what she herself looked for. Agatha tended to go for witty, responsible people and who did not mind her blunt nature. Never in the history of ever, had Sophie and Agatha been interested on the same person.)

Anyway, he would give her lots of exposure, would look great on her Instagram feed, would be able to save her from her terrible apartment, student loan and infinite credit card debt, and would open up the world of fancy designer shoes and pretty gowns Sophie always dreamed of.

But _why_ would he do that?

Tedros was, again, young, rich, successful and handsome. He hardly expressed any special affection towards Sophie or had the usual lovesick look most of Sophie’s victims sported when they found themselves bewitched by her. They didn’t really agree on much, from what Agatha gathered on their conversations, had no shared interests, lived completely different lifestyles, had different moral values and overall didn’t seem to have the grandiose connection Sophie spoke of at all. Maybe he was with her because she was _pretty?_ But again, _why_. There werw thousands of pretty girls willing to date young rich men, why _Sophie_ in particular?

Something about this seemed off. She needs to talk to Sophie.

…When she recovered.

.

.

.

Alright, maybe it was conspiracy. The wedding was in two days.

 _Two days_.

She supposes time does go by quickly when you’re procrastinating something you really, _really_ don’t want to do. Nearly two weeks gone by in a flash. And, as she should, Agatha finally gets herself together. She is going to tell Sophie.

Well, she _was_ going to tell Sophie. The blonde and a few of her friends were at _The Woods_ for a last girl's night out. Meaning:

Sophie was currently _drunk_.

But maybe she wasn't?

She probably was though. Sophie was the most lightweight person Agatha knew, likely because she was so skinny. Girl could not hold her alcohol and _drunk-Sophie_ was _messy-Sophie_. Unwilling, untamable and unimaginably difficult to have a coherent conversation with.

 _But, maybe she wasn’t drunk?_ Agatha was not going to risk it.

She forces herself to hurry. She doesn’t change out of her work outfit (merely discarding the suit’s jacket), stopping by her house to feed Reaper and leave some important documents. Agatha even nearly forgets to _lock her front door,_ calling a car to the club, hoping it might not be too late to come clean. But she was late anyway, as proven not only by the 15 bucks that left her wallet (for the second time this month) but by-

_"Aggieeeee! You're better! Have you taaaasted this? It’s amaziiiing!"_

Agatha glares at Chaddick, who has the decency to look away. He knew the amount of alcohol Sophie was capable of processing, namely: none.

"Yeah, I have…"

"You should have seen, Sophie; the other night Agatha was so wasted she ma…"

"Chaddick, don't you have somewhere to be? As in, _not here?_ ”

The ex-jock walks away with a smirk, knowing he had some nice blackmailing material on her. Could this get any more horrible?

_Now what? Should she just take Sophie home? Sober her up, tell her everything then beg for forgiveness? She couldn’t. Then what to do, what to do…_

"Sophie, I have to tell you something, it's really important, you see…"

"Oh Aggie, I'm sure you can tell me laaaaaatteerrrr! I've been so stressed lately! Time to let it goooo! Come on, I'll even pay your first drinkkkk!"

Her friend lifted a glass of what looked and smelled like a vodka and gin disaster waiting to happen.

"Sophie, what is even that?"

"Not sure…but Chaddick told me it was good."

Agatha sighs. _She should tell the truth, right here, right now, shouldn’t she?_

"… Alright."

And she would have if she were a better person. But to her shame, she downs five more after the first and suddenly she can't remember why she came here on the first place. Something about a guy?

(Lies, Agatha knows _exactly_ what she is doing, but for a few more hours she gives herself the benefit of the doubt.)

Whatever, she'll just deal with it later. She hasn’t said anything for the past few days, surely it can wait some more, right?

.

.

.

Said and done, five hours later Agatha concludes she is a horrible human being. She should just quit. Leave the job of human being for people who will not mess up. Like Hester. Hester never messes up shit. _Yeah, great plan._

Sophie is knocked out cold, sleeping with her face in a table, drooling, besides said Hester, who has her usual judgy face on, glaring at the blonde woman, like she was some kind of disgusting creature.

Agatha doesn't think she could feel worse.

She should have just told Sophie the truth right away. The moment she found out Tedros was, well, _Tedros._ Instead she had gone along with a wedding that was sure to be a fiasco, because not only was the groom a liar and a player, but Agatha was therefore his accomplice, and her silence was probably the greatest betrayal of their entire friendship.

She picks up her phone to call a car, so she could at the very least wallow in misery at home, but before the app even loads someone snatches her phone.

Turns out she can _indeed_ feel worse.

"We need to talk."

His voice sounds as it always does whenever she’s around, half-annoyed and half-something else Agatha doesn’t dare name. As usual, he looks nice. His tight shirt and tie are still in perfect place, unlike the last time she saw him here, signaling he too probably came straight from work.

“This is girl’s night; you’re not allowed here.”

“Oh, I’m not?” Tedros mocks her, but she can tell his heart isn’t truly in it. “Then please do tell me the circumstances in which I can talk to you, because you sure don’t make it easy.”

She is so tired. Trying to avoid him is hard enough, trying to avoid him knowing that she doesn’t really want to is impossible. She has always read people so well, and he always seems so genuine. It makes her wanna believe he is not the bad person she _knows_ he is.

"…I’ve been… avoiding you. It’s not that I don't want to talk to you. Is just… that I shouldn’t," she hesitates but ends up answering honestly.

Tedros’ expression softens at her candor, peering at her with concern.

"Are you drunk?"

"No. Maybe."

He sighs, then digs his car keys from his pocket, still holding her phone hostage on his other hand.

"Look, I'll give you a ride home. I really just wanna talk. We have… _unfinished business_."

Agatha considers. All this wedding-baloney made her poor, Tedros is so pretty, he looks so wholesome and honest, and she just wants to sulk at home for the next few hours ~~. Maybe he could stay for a day or two. That shirt of his would look great on her floor…~~

_No, bad idea._

“I don’t wanna get into a stranger’s car,” she blurts out the first excuse her mind can manage. In retrospect, that was some obvious bullshit, seeing as they had talked for hours last week and he had already given her a ride before. Granted, it had been Sophie’s car and Sophie had been there, but still, that didn’t make much sense.

“Oh truly?” he holds up her phone, the ride app now open, “You’re gonna pull that one on me?”

It’s Agatha’s turn to sigh.

“Okay don’t go using logic on me, mister. For all I know, you could be planning on kidnapping me and selling my organs on the black market,” or worse, _actually talking to her_.

“Can never be too careful, can we?” he looks partly amused and partly annoyed. “Look, I’m serious here, okay? I’m not going to do anything to you, we can talk to Hester on our way out, I’m sure she’ll hunt me and string me up upside down at her soundproofed basement in case I even dream of harming you. Alright?” Tedros's eyes never leave her face in the twenty seconds she takes to decide, and it's really distracting, but she manages to answer:

"Okay, fine."

They talk to Hester, rather, Tedros talks to Hester while Agatha avoids her gaze shamefully. _Why does Tedros know Hester? Did they ever talk during school?_

Agatha doesn’t know and she doesn’t ask. Her gaze lingers on Sophie’s drooling face and she feels her chest tighten.

The two of them walk into the parking lot awkwardly, in mortifying silence, and enter a silver Porsche. Agatha notes that it looks very out of place, since most cars belonged to employees and looked rather humble next to the silver beauty. Why _was_ Tedros here? He came in his car, so he was not here to drink. Did Sophie tell him to pick her up? Or was he here to see Agatha?

Her heart skips at beat at the thought and she doesn’t ask him any of this either.

"Nice ride," she offers instead.

"Thanks."

Tedros drives in silence, with Agatha occasionally telling him to turn on certain streets. She keeps her gaze on the empty roads, but she does catch quite a stunning sight of his profile when she forgets she’s not supposed to look at him at all.

To avoid getting too in her head, she decides to turn on the radio. The song that starts playing is familiar and she guesses the radio must be on CD mode. The letters in bold red on the visor tell her she is correct, and this is indeed the song she thinks it is.

“You’re into this kind of stuff?”

Tedros grips the wheel, almost defensively.

“They’re really good, okay? I’ve been listening to them for a few years and so far, they’re my favorite band. I know their sound isn’t for everyone and-"

“I know.”

“…It’s not what most mainstream artists are doi- you what?”

Agatha blushes when she feels his incredulous gaze on her face, and it occurs her that this is the first time he looks directly at her since they got into his car. She hopes he’ll attribute the redness on her cheeks to the red light they’re currently stuck at and hesitates before answering, in a quiet voice, meeting his stare:

“They’re my favorite band too.”

_“Oh.”_

The rest of the drive is less awkward, one would even say comfortable if not for the leftover tension. They sing along quietly to the vocalist and Agatha is sure Tedros stopped himself from doing the guitar once. _Not cute, not cute, not cute._

Eventually, they get to her apartment building. She reaches over and turns off the radio, the deafening silence almost too much to bear.

Agatha tries reaching for the car door, but it's locked.

"I did tell you we needed to talk."

Usually, she’d be scared if a guy trapped her in his car in the middle of the night, but Agatha’s frustration just comes back at full force and topples over anything else.

"What's to talk, you're _clearly_ into someone else."

Tedros' eyes go big, and Agatha can't help but think he must be the world's greatest actor. _Oscar nomination performance. The academy is shook-_

" _What?_ Did you, like, not hear anything I sa-"

"I'm not that kind of girl, Tedros,” Agatha interrupts him firmly, “I don't hook up with anyone who's in a relationship, especially in a relationship with my best friend, no matter how stupidly short said relationship may be."

"I… Did Sophie tell you-"

"She didn't need to? You guys are _engaged_ , and I am not going to get caught in between, okay? Please, _please_ leave me alone. Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t give me rides when I’m drunk."

Suddenly, Tedros' confused expression is gone and his eyes are gleaming with what looks like joy. He looks like he might kiss her and Agatha is not sure how well her defenses will hold in case he does.

"Agatha, I think you got this all wrong, I'm not-"

"What, you have amnesia? Or, let me guess, it's your twin brother who's engaged to her?"

Tedros burst out laughing and he sounds like an angel, throwing his head back, and Agatha forgets for a second that she’s mad at him. But eventually reality brings her back and she pushes him, with just enough force to get his attention.

"Leave me the fuck alone, dude."

_…Asshole._

This time when she reaches for the door, it’s unlocked.

She glares at him from the sidewalk one more time, before entering the building.

.

.

.

Agatha doesn't hear a word from him after that.

 _It’s for the best_ , she tells herself. Agatha spent so much time wishing he would just go away and take these weird feelings he gives her with him that she didn’t even consider that once he did go away for real, new, stronger, and even more angsty feelings would appear. She only knew him for _two weeks_. He wasn’t even hers. She has _no grieving rights_. 

She goes out with Sophie one more time, and now it's just the two of them. It would be the perfect time to tell her. She has no excuses. No drinking, no sickness, no Tedros-

Agatha doesn't.

.

.

.

Today is the day.

It’s a clear summer night, which is unfair with how angsty and conflicted Agatha feels. _Hollywood lied to us all, hasn’t it?_

Agatha is dressed in a silky blue dress Sophie chose for her. It suits her and she thinks she looks quite pretty. Someone who actually knew what they were doing did her make-up, and for once she managed to tame her hair into submission, putting it into a fancy-looking up-do youtube taught her how to do. She’s wearing her best shoes and her fanciest earrings. Agatha is looking and smelling like a daydream outside the main room of the church, but her hands are shaking and she's terrified.

She's not ready. Far from it really.

The rules were simple. _If you're not the bride you don’t wear white, you don’t overdrink, and you never, ever, under any circumstances, fall in love with the groom._

No matter if they were hot, if they smelled good, if their eyes made you feel weak at the knees, if they shared common interests with you, if their taste was impossible to forget, if they went out of their way to get your attention or if they felt like they just might be _the one_.

_You just didn’t okay?_

Shit, this was messed up. Still, Agatha brought herself to breathe deeply, trying to contain her anxiety.

The ceremonialist tells her it's her cue and she’s soon walking down the aisle, clutching a small bouquet of pink carnations like a lifeline, looking around the church.

The place is crowded. Their entire social circle and their grandmother seem to be here. People from their childhood neighborhood, people from school, both of Sophie’s parents, her stepmother and step siblings, quite a few models and influencers and a bunch of people she had never seen, probably Tedros’ friends, family and co-workers.

The flowers and decorations look as amazing and beautiful as she would have expected from Sophie and she might have seen Hester, Anadil and Dot on a row somewhere, but that's not what made her almost freeze, nearly stumbling on the red carpet.

_The groom._

He's wearing an expensive-looking white tuxedo, his hair is an unnatural platinum blonde and his eyes are disturbingly intense. He’s tall, sharp and everything about him screams fancy. He's attractive in the way some snakes are attractive, beautiful and deadly, but the big deal is:

Agatha has never seen that man in her entire life.

She goes to her spot standing by the side, her brain running a marathon, tons of data just being tossed aimlessly on her mind as she tries to wrap her head around what the actual fuck is going on when her eyes meet someone else's.

Seating on the third row on the left, Tedros' blue eyes are shinning in complete and absolute amusement, his hand is over his mouth in a barely controlled laugh. The music seems to be on his side, because no one hears him. Agatha schools her expression into anything other than the overbearing _wrath_ she feels, but she’s not sure if she’s doing a good job. 

She’s somewhat aware of the chaos that seems to be unfolding around her; the ceremonialist’s screeching, the groom’s rage, the crowd’s confused mumbling and Sophie’s absence. But it does not matter.

Agatha _really_ wants to choke Tedros with his tie.

.

.

.

Turns out, Sophie's groom was named Rafal. Not that Agatha would remember his name a few days from now.

He is the current CEO of _Two Brothers_ , a huge company, often associated with the mafia for fucks sake. Known playboy and womanizer, with a criminal record for drug dealing, as well as physical and sexual assault. Also, partially involved on the illegal leaks of information that caused the media scandal around Tedros’ parents’ divorce all those years ago, she later learns.

_Great guy, Sophie. 10/10. Husband material right there._

_At least she didn’t follow through_ , Agatha argues to try and calm herself down. Oh yeah, Sophie ran away from her own wedding. No one was surprised honestly. Maybe Rafal. He looked very, very angry. Agatha didn’t really blame him, after knowing that he was the one paying for _the wedding, after party and honeymoon_ , no matter how horrible of a person he seems to be.

By now, Sophie should be in Paris, enjoying her honeymoon tickets and reservations. Through text, she tells Agatha how lonely and sad she is and how she’ll tell her everything that happened in complete details on their next café meeting in a about month and a half. Agatha suspects she is not as lonely as she claims to be because Hort’s Instagram stories tell her he is currently in Europe as well, if not in Paris. But then again, she will not concern herself over this matter. _“No wedding”_ was good news enough to keep her in a great mood for any of Sophie’s shenanigans for the next following weeks.

And since the reception was already paid for, everyone just decided to come enjoy it.

Yes, when she says everyone, she means _everyone_.

"Hey, you."

Oh, Lord, no.

Agatha doesn’t lift her head to look at him, continuing to type a half-assed reply to Sophie’s whiny texts. She won’t give him the satisfaction. Instead she downs whatever is left of her whisky, because that’s what one does when courage lacks.

She’s sitting at the main table of the ballroom, by herself, mostly because it’s where she’s been assigned to sit, but also because she’s not up for the questions the other guests will probably feel entitled to ask if she were to sit with them. Hester is nowhere in sight, but Agatha is sure she’s making herself scarce _on purpose_. She saw Chaddick back at the church but they politely ignored each other and Dot had been missing for quite a while.

"Not speaking to me?"

"No."

"Come on, it was pretty funny."

"No, it wasn't," she finally looks up at him and he must have sensed true resentment in her perfectly lined brown eyes, because his smug, perfect façade crumbled, and he looked very awkward suddenly. Tedros pulls up the chair beside her and she notices it has _his name_ on it. Sophie was not being subtle on her matchmaking at all, was she?

_God, Agatha was so dumb._

"Well, it wasn’t very funny to me either _then,_ but I do laugh quite a bit _now,_ " he offers, sipping on champagne, trying to keep busy.

"I'm glad my pain amuses you," she's quiet for few seconds, considering what she’s going to say. "Tedros?"

"Yeah?" he looks up from his flute of champagne, hopeful blue eyes shining in the half light of the candlelit ballroom and keeping her from saying what she was actually going to say, so instead she blurts:

_"I'm not sorry for punching you."_

"I didn't expect you to be," his smile is friendly and contagious. He downs the last of his champagne and extends a hand to her. "Okay, let's start again. I'm Tedros, I'm so _single_ it hurts, and when we were in high school, I had a crush on you."

The way he says this so openly, his voice so even and clear nearly drowns out the vulnerable look on his face. Agatha herself can barely register his expression because she’s pretty sure her brain has short-circuited. _Again._

"No, you did not."

"But I did."

Tedros proceeds to tell her all sorts of things.

He tells her about how he first saw her as a rival because of her grades (she never really paid any attention to the scoreboard, she thought it was bullshit, but in retrospect she does remembers his name was always under hers), and about how sorry he was that he laughed and partook at Chaddick’s antics during junior year, mostly because he the felt like ' _the new guy with a big name and no friends'_ and felt she was a threat.

“That’s some real introspection and self-awareness right there, hm”

“I’m just fortunate enough to have had a really good therapist,” Tedros responds, “Merlin is like a psychology-wizard. He was the one who kinda sorted out that maybe part of my teen angst was repressed attraction to someone who fed the cats behind the library”

“Oh, then you’ve been my stalker for quite some time then.”

Tedros blushes and Agatha is both flattered and embarrassed at the same time.

He then explains about how shit blew up on his face during his parents’ divorce, how his grades dropped, how he got kicked out of the football team and how he started to spend a long ass time sulking at the library. Which just so happened to be Agatha’s favorite hangout spot at the time. Tedros tells her how he thought she was cute, how she was one of the people who hadn’t changed with him (even if unintentionally) and how he wanted to get to know her.

What.

“I just… wasn’t sure how to approach you? I always dragged Chaddick to your tea shop when I didn’t see you at the library but then chickened out and-”

“...I take neither of you were huge tea fans?”

“Yeah?”

“That does explain a lot,” Agatha mumbles.

“I was going to talk to you about Avalon when I heard you were going there, but… Since you didn’t tell me that, I kinda found out when Chaddick took your math notebook to be my _‘wingman’,_ I didn’t think you would have…appreciated.

“Wait, that was Chaddick playing your wingman?” Agatha burst out laughing.

“The plan was that I was supposed to casually hand back to you something you forgot, but he kinda grew tired of waiting for you to actually forget something,” Tedros chuckled. “If you thought Chaddick was _bad_ then what big word is _Miss-best-in-class_ going to use to describe Sophie’s take on playing wingwoman?”

“Horrendous,” Agatha deadpans and now it’s Tedros turn to laugh.

Silence sits between the two. It’s not uncomfortable and kinda welcome. Agatha digests the last forty minutes of enlighting conversation as they eat the main course of the night. A waiter comes to pick up both of their plates and she decides she still has some questions.

"Well, do you still do?"

“Do I still what?” Tedros questions, his head slightly inclined, like a confused puppy.

“Have a crush on me,” Agatha mumbles, her cheeks burning.

Tedros’ expression goes from 'confused' back to that mischievous look he had back at the church, leaning towards her ever so slightly.

_"Maybe."_

"Good,” she offers her hand, as he had before, “I’m Agatha, I jump to conclusions, but I am very interested in getting to know you.”

Tedros however, doesn’t shake her hand as she had his. Instead, he takes it to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles, relishing in the shocked look on her face before she can school her expression back to unaffected aloofness.

“Are you free at six next friday?”

“Late meeting, but I’m good at seven. Pick me up?” she asks, an unspoken challenge laced in her words.

“As the lady wishes.” _Challenge accepted._ “Any preferences?”

“Anywhere but ‘ _The Woods’_. But make sure to text me first if it’s somewhere fancy,” she smiles. “You know what? I still don’t have your number.”

Tedros confidently stands up, his hand yet to release hers.

"A number for a dance?"

Agatha told him that night at ‘ _The Woods_ ’ that she isn’t a very good dancer but again, he insists. It’s fine, because they don’t dance for long anyway. By the time Tedros gives up, fumbling with his phone to call a car, his hair is already a mess, Agatha’s broke free from her up-do and there is lipstick everywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sorry  
> This was so much fun to revisit. I forgot how fun SGE was. I kinda fell out of touch with the series. I did read QFG, I just can't remember what happens in it? Idk. I felt the series should have concluded on TLEA. If possible before the whole Agatha and Sophie are sisters baloney stunt, because I never bought that.  
> Please leave me comment and share your thoughts with me!  
> Hope you are all safe during this quarantine


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